


Ex

by QueenHusband



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Abuse, Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Established Relationship, M/M, Masochism, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28543287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenHusband/pseuds/QueenHusband
Summary: Victor abandoned his friends for years and his sudden return sparks an ominous change in Bede.|#noncontober Extra 5: Toys - Mind the Tags|
Relationships: Beet | Bede/Hop/Masaru | Victor
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	Ex

Stepping foot in Ballonlea is like landing on an alien planet. Unique flora and strange pokemon to match flourish only in this fae town. Victor's traveled all around the world, but nowhere quite matches the melancholy dream-like forest that seems to watch him at all times. Even after five years, almost nothing's changed. The gym's bright lights illuminate his path, stopping just short of the glass doors to give himself a quick once-over. No matter how much he wipes his hands on his ripped jeans, they're still cold and clammy. He's a former champion, for Gods' sakes, he shouldn't be this nervous to see an old friend.

Though his entrance turns a few heads, no one seems to recognize him. He shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other before working up the nerve to approach the service desk. "Um... Excuse me, miss," he murmurs, adjusting his shades. It's hard not to turn away with the way the lady's staring at him. Expectant. "Is Bede still in...?"

"You mean our gym leader? Of course! Are you here for the gym challenge?"

"N-No, no thank you," he tips the brim of his snapback a bit lower. "Can... someone let him know a friend's waiting for him?"

The lady tilts her head, a hint of suspicion behind her sparkling customer service smile, "We can... You look awfully familiar."

Ugh. The need to shrink into himself is ballooning out of control and, just when he's about to turn heel and run, a familiar voice draws him back in. "Unbelievable. Why are you dawdling about? You just love wasting my time."

That snappish, cold demeanor can only be one person. Victor's heart leaps to his throat as his eyes fall upon his old rival. It both raises his spirits and fills him with dread, the toxic cocktail swirling in the pit of his stomach nearly enough to make him sick--he holds it in for Bede's sake. "I actually just got here..."

Bede's gotten taller since he's seen him last, which would be five years ago today. There he stands, still in his official gym leader garb. His purple eyes are sharp with long lashes, and soft, wild hair framing his face that lends him a boyish look to soften the more masculine jawline and stature. Standing heel-to-toe with his arms crossed and staring down his nose at Victor, the man exudes regality...and arrogance. With a turn of his head, he proceeds toward "backstage", presuming correctly the ex-champion would follow. It's dark behind the scenes, various props and stacked furniture shoved up against the walls. The smell of old wood and flowery perfume permeates the empty theatre room, the curtain on the stage is drawn, though Victor can see light shining underneath them.

Without saying a word, Bede ascends the small staircase to the side and disappears behind the curtain. Victor can't help but hesitate, his throat tight as various scenarios play through his head. He can't imagine why Bede summoned him here. Is it for revenge? An apology? He honestly doesn't seem that angry, not more so than usual, anyway.

Years ago, Victor buckled under the pressures and expectations of the title Champion. At first, Leon and Hop were there to help him along the way, but each gradually moved on to their own paths in life, and Victor felt bad running to them every time an issue came up that he didn't know how to handle. Every time he found himself floundering, he'd feel too ashamed or embarrassed to ask for help. He was a grown man--supposedly the strongest trainer in the region, but let him screw up on some benign paperwork, or scheduling error, or public outing, and Imposter Syndrome tore into him like a starved Morpeko into a plate of curry. It eventually got so bad, he had a breakdown on live television, dragging several others down with him...

Yeah, no one was surprised when he stepped down.

Really, more than anyone, Bede should be chomping at the bit to rip his throat out. He's the type of person to hold a grudge--Victor knows this, and yet when he received the beautifully handwritten invitation in the mail, he couldn't _not_ come crawling back. It was the last thing he expected to see upon stepping foot in his bedroom. Apparently, the letter had waited for him for barely a day. The only person who should have been aware of his return was his mum, so how Bede found out so quickly... in advance, even... Victor shudders to think about it.

Still, he owes Bede an audience at the very least.

He deserves whatever's waiting for him behind that curtain.

Steeling his shaky resolve, Victor wills his legs to carry him up the stairs. In the center of the stage, Bede sits, facing away from him, at what appears to be an ornate dining table. Somehow sensing his approach, he swivels in his chair, his face a mask of neutrality. Victor swallows, waiting out the seconds, minutes, however long it takes for Bede to say something.

"How much longer are we supposed to wait?" Another voice that's decidedly not Bede's breaks the silence. "You know, I'm starting to not like surprises."

Victor's heart swells, a wave of nostalgia crashing over him as Bede slowly stands up and steps away, revealing an equally stunned Hop sitting on the opposite end of the small round table. Hop's also grown quite a bit, though his sense of fashion hasn't changed much. He instantly jumps to his feet, a wide array of emotions twisting his features till they eventually settle on a cross between relief and frustration. Victor's never known his childhood friend to hold back, bracing himself just in time for Hop's dash-and-tackle. A literal breathtaking hug that'd put a Pangoro to shame. God, his scent, his warmth... Victor's lips tremble as the first tears of the night roll down his cheek onto Hop's jean-clad shoulder. "H-Hop," he says in a muffled cry, burying his face in the crook of the man's neck. They sway together much longer than what might be deemed proper, Hop rubbing circles into the brunette's back.

"Hey, hey, how am I supposed to be mad at you if you're crying like this?"

"Oh, don't you worry about that. I'll stay mad for the both of us," Bede's snide interjection reminds them they're not the only ones in the room. The hug swiftly breaks apart, reduced to sniffles and shoulder pats as Bede openly scoffs. "I do hope you're both as embarrassed as I am. Now have a seat."

"I take back what I said, I love surprises," Hop says with a grin, grabbing his old friend by the hand and guiding him to sit in the chair closest to his.

Bede rolls his eyes but otherwise keeps the insults to himself. He bends down to pop open a chest beside his chair, a clunky thing Victor's amazed he didn't notice before. Victor leans around the table, catching a glimpse of the contents but not quite making out any specifics. Looks like they might be stage props or something. His eyes widen in genuine surprise to see a tall sealed bottle of Glenmorangie. Bede produces three clear shot glasses, sliding one each to his guests.

"Are you joking, mate? Scotch?" Hop turns the glass over in his hand as though there's a secret code he's missing.

"Astute of you to notice. Yes, scotch."

Victor blinks down into his empty glass. He hasn't had a single sip of whiskey in... well, in five years, and frankly he's not sure he ever wants to again. It... left a bad taste in his mouth. Which he'd then left in Bede's mouth. "Uh, I-I don't think this is a good idea, Bede," he says, struggling to keep his face from warming with residual shame.

Bede shrugs, "Hm. As if you're a fountain of good ideas. Shut up and drink." He's already broken the seal, smoothly pouring each man their drought before knocking back his shot. "After the mess you made, the least you could do is indulge me."

Guilt stings his wrist as Victor visibly shrinks a little lower. His shoulders slightly bunch up as he meekly picks up the glass. Hop gently lowers the glass just as it reaches his lips, "You don't have to if you don't want to."

"Indeed. I can't force you," Bede says with another roll of his eyes.

Victor watches in awe as the blonde knocks back another like it's water. Staring into the brown liquid, he silently makes up his mind. And knocks it back. It burns his throat in the worst way, making him cough and splutter.

Bede throws Hop a smug twist of his lips, the younger man glowering back at him. Hop's not a lightweight by any means, but he's not about to go chasing Bede shot for shot like an idiot. He nurses his drink slowly, shaking his head as the blonde refills Victor's glass.

"So then, Victor. Tell us about your travels," Bede says conversationally.

"M-My travels?" The question catches Victor completely off-guard. He somewhat expected Bede to bring up more details from that disastrous dinner party. He'd more or less resigned himself to reliving it all, taking his lumps. He hadn't expected any curiosities beyond that, and somehow the idea of recanting his many travels seems even more humiliating. It wasn't a vacation, after all, it was an escape. He'd run away to distant lands, trying so desperately to forget all about Galar, his family, his friends. To overwrite the painful old memories with new and exciting adventures. But everywhere he went he saw shadows of his past life. The wide world beyond Galar's borders made him that much smaller. Victor ducks his head, taking another sip and trying hard not to cringe at the foul smell. "Well... Um... there wasn't that much to see..."

A glass slams on the table. Shadows cast over Bede's eyes as he crosses his arms. "Where did you go."

"Ah... I..." Victor's heart squeezes in his chest. If only his hat could grow a hundred times in size and swallow him up.

"Lay off him, Bede," Hop jumps in to defend him.

He never deserved Hop. The lad's always had a big heart; even when his childhood friend betrayed him in the worst way--tongue-kissed his boyfriend on national television--Hop was willing to forgive him. Victor ran away without ever explaining himself, and yet here they are. Hop's still standing up for him. The only thing keeping guilt from eating him away completely is the desire to not waste Hop's kindness. Hop's boyfriend, on the other hand...

"I'm not laying on him, don't worry," Bede pours himself a third drink, but doesn't down it right away. His heated gaze is still trained on Victor, who avoids it like the coward he is. "Why don't you start from the beginning? Go on, I'm dying to know."

"I--"

"You don't have to say anything, Victor. Ignore him."

"Oh, yes. Feel free to ignore us, Victor. You've been doing it for five years--"

"Fuck off, Bede. Give him room to breathe."

"Um--I--"

"He has an entire theatre to breathe in, Hop. I'd think you of all people would be curious to know where he's been all these years."

"Uh--"

"When he's ready, he'll tell us. At the rate you're going, you'll run him off again."

"I'll run him off? Pfft. Then let him run!"

"What?!"

Victor's head is spinning, the voices booming back and forth aggravating the pounding in his head, in his chest. Hot tears run freely down his cheeks as his face crumples. He ducks down to hide his face in his arms before the two can see his pathetic tears. A grown man flushed and crying because he can't own up to his own bullshit. "I shouldn't have come back," he shakily sobs into his sleeves.

Jumping from his seat, Hop leans over his shoulder in a half-hug. "Nah, nah, nah, mate, it's fine. You're fine," his words barely above a whisper.

A deep chuckle startles them both, Hop's gaze snapping up to glare at Bede who's shaking with silent laughter. He's never wanted to punch the blonde this badly in his life. "Fine. Forget it," Bede waves at them dismissively, finally tossing back his third drink. There's a faint dusting of pink across his pale cheeks, the tell-tale sign he's beyond tipsy. "Look at you... Mister Knight-in-Shining-Armor. You're the reason he's so weak."

"Are you out of your mind?" Hop's frown deepens.

"No, but I'm tempted." Bede leans back in his chair, letting his hair fall back to stare at the ceiling. He closes his eyes, listening intently to the soothing sound of Victor's muffled sobs, gradually reducing to sniffles and whimpers. He takes in a long breath, allowing himself to really smile for the first time in months. "Ah...forget about it. I wasn't planning on a fight, believe it or not."

"Could have fooled me."

Bede slumps forward over the table. His movements are much less graceful now, more heavy and sluggish. "I have an idea. Why don't we play a game? Just like old times."

Stifling the last of his sniffles, Victor pulls himself up from the table. His face is red and wet with tears and snot, glistening under the stage lights. His handle on his emotions are weak and his sense of judgment even more so, no doubt thanks to the stiff drink. He blinks away the last of his tears, his eyes stinging. "W-What game," his voice comes out broken and small.

Bede holds his head in thought, sighing again. "Oh, I don't know. How about... arm wrestling." Coming so soon off the heels of a heated argument, the suggestion sounds downright comical. But neither Victor nor Hop are laughing. Hop eyes the blonde warily, reluctantly returning to his seat only for Bede to motion for him to come closer. "Come, you first. Heh, let's make it exciting. If I win, you have to do anything I want."

"That's a tall order, coming from you," Hop grouses, but he hates backing down from a challenge, especially where Bede's involved. So he draws his chair closer till they're close enough to clasp hands on the table. "Then if I win, you have to apologize to Victor."

"Pff, whatever," Bede smirks, though his body's swaying ever so slightly.

He has no reason to be this confident, considering Hop usually won these matches when they were kids. It's no surprise to anyone then, when Hop slams the man's hand onto the table with little effort.

"Tch." Victor sits a little straighter in his chair, wiping at his face as the taller man swivels to face him. Bede curls his lip, "I. Apologize. Victor. For inflicting such _grave emotional distress_ \--"

"That's enough," Hop sighs.

Victor just shakes his head, glancing down to his lap. "Thanks..." _But you have nothing to apologize for._ Still, he can't help but feel the sharper edges of tension fizz away, lightening his shoulders just a touch. Despite everything, he can't help but feel nostalgic. Long before any of them hit drinking age, they started doing these little gatherings. Not all the time. Just... whenever Hop had time away from his studies, and Bede was amiable, and Victor could sneak away from the watchful eyes of league staff and the press. It was rare the stars aligned to give them all free time. But when they did, they didn't have pokemon battles or talk shop. They'd just talk. Hop usually instigated games, gradually upping the ante on bets and dares. So seeing them like this now makes Victor ache for the good old days. Before he ruined everything.

"Let's go again," insists Bede despite having just lost handily. He's propped himself up confidently on the table.

Hop rubs his temple in exasperation but ultimately agrees. "Fine. But I'm gonna have a real good laugh when you lose."

Except Bede doesn't.

Lose, that is.

It's a grand struggle, but the back of Hop's hand eventually kisses the table. Hop furrows his brows in disbelief as Bede squeezes his hand with a smirk. Victor covers his mouth, suddenly very scared for his friend. Bede's vindictive side is no joke. Bede practically cackles, throwing open his chest of toys and fishing around, producing a pair of pink, fluffy handcuffs. "I trust you remember this little number?"

Hop quirks a brow. "You still have that?"

Very vindictive indeed.

"Ah, ah, don't forget," says Bede, whipping a silky red scarf out of thin air. "The accompanying piece."

"Wait, wait, wait," Hop waves his arms around, starting to sweat. "B-Best two out of three!"

Bede frowns, their stand-off lasting but a minute before the blonde gives in with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "Loser."

They clasp hands one more time, and this time there's no mercy. Hop flinches in pain as the theatre resonates with a hard thud. His poor stinging hand nothing compared to his bruised ego. There's an evil gleam to Bede's eyes that sends shivers up his spine. "All that fancy book learnin's made you weaker."

Hop cradles his hand, his face flush with the notion Bede let him win earlier just to set him up. "Dammit!"

Victor sucks in a breath; he'd love to jump in and say "You don't have to do that, Hop!" but the fact of the matter is, this one was a long time coming. He hadn't seen those particular items in about eight years. Back then Hop was a rough-n-tumble kid and Bede, while no pushover, was skinnier than Piers. So of course, Hop handily won every match, forcing the other to do more and more outlandish acts, including some very... risque experiments. Bede took it in stride then, so honestly, neither of them could have predicted he'd hold onto that particular grudge for this long. Especially considering it kickstarted their relationship... Hop and Bede's, that is. Victor had no clue until much later, but when he did find out, he really let them have it...

Victor's just about lost in his reminiscing when Bede's harsh tone rips him back to the present, "What do you think you're doing?" Hop pauses mid-way through tying the scarf around his head and waits expectantly. Bede glares at Victor then, "Those are for him, you fool."

Both Hop and Victor blink in surprise, catching each other in equally puzzled gazes.

Bede reiterates with more venom this time, "All of these toys are for him. Our guest of honor."

"B-But I," Victor barely utters a word before he's silenced by the most heated glare he's ever felt, full of pent up anger. His will to protest dies along with what's left of his dignity as he remembers--he came here explicitly to accept whatever punishment they had in store. If Bede wants to tie him up, humiliate him, do whatever... it's no less than what he deserves.

Hop on the other hand, doesn't seem too keen on the idea. "That's not fair, is it? I'm the one who lost."

"...Fine." Bede says with a smile that's a little too wide, his eyes narrowing. "Then let's play a game, Victor."

Victor nervously sips his second glass of whiskey, though noticeably it hasn't gone down much at all. Resigned to his fate or no, it doesn't stop the fact that he's nervous as all get-out. "W-Which game...? he asks meekly, just barely managing to hold the gym leader's gaze.

Bede reaches out to tip the brunette's glass upwards, encouraging him to down the liquid in one gulp. "Whatever. Dominoes, poker, scrabble. It doesn't matter. I'll let you pick, otherwise, you might cry again--"

Victor gags on the whiskey, his face already quite flushed as warmth spreads throughout his body, much quicker than he'd like. He never could hold his liquor very well. "T-Then dominoes..." He doesn't know the first thing about poker, and his brain's too fried for word salads. It's only after Bede's pulled out a brand new pack and is noisily shuffling them face down about the table that he realizes his mistake. "W-Wait, let's play a different--"

"Fourteen for you," Bede pushes half of them toward Victor, "Why don't you start?"

"I... Ok," Victor folds. It's been so long, he's forgotten he's also terrible at counting dominoes. He's terrible at everything that isn't cooking or pokemon battles. His heart strums along, quickening with every piece laid on the table till he's only got about five left. He's long lost track of which numbers should be left over, just praying that Bede runs out of options soon. Hop's standing directly behind him to observe isn't exactly helping his nerves, either. With only two players, it's mostly a matter of luck, but as Victor's luck would have it, he's run out of matching numbers in the next turn. All he can do is pass until the last of Bede's pieces ends the tail. His skin crawls under the scope of Bede's evil glare, and suddenly a shot of adrenaline revitalizes him, "Wait! R-Rock-Paper-Scissors!"

Hop slaps a hand to his face, already knowing where this is going.

"And they call me a sore loser..." Bede huffs, but he's feeling benevolent tonight. He holds out his fist, waiting for Victor to catch on before the two shake: 1, 2!

...

"...b-best two out of three?"

So much for benevolence. Victor shifts uncomfortably in his seat, the fluffy pink cuffs clamping his wrists tightly behind his back. 

"Hold still." Victor nearly chokes when Bede jerks his head towards him to press the silk cloth over his eyes, reaching round to tie the back nice and snug. Bede roughly takes him by the chin, examining him at all angles before nodding in satisfaction, not caring how he whines in protest. "That'll do. Since you losers both lost twice, I will award myself twice the commands."

Victor blushes in his hold, inwardly thankful his cheeks are already red from the scotch. "O-Ok..."

"What--there's more?" Hop slumps over in his chair.

Bede's eyes narrow. "Hmph. Depends on how well you perform." He leans down so his nose just barely brushes against Victor's, either not noticing the way the brunette jumps and shivers under his touch or maliciously ignoring it. His voice is low, for Victor's ears only. "I want you to kiss him the way you kissed me."

If he was red before, he's a tamato berry now. Victor pulls back, automatically glancing in Hop's general direction, though he can't see worth beans. "No, I..."

Meanwhile, Hop raises a brow, clearly suspicious. "What are you guys whispering about?"

Bede ignores him, still looming over his prey. "Don't play innocent now. I know you've always wanted Hop for yourself. He's always liked you, you know," Bede's voice dips suggestively low, leaning in so his breath brushes hot against the brunette's reddened ear. All the while, Hop's growing increasingly confused and impatient.

"Just what are you two whispering about?" he asks, jostling his leg under the table.

"That's why you kissed me, isn't it? To make him jealous." Victor shoots up from his seat but Bede doesn't let him escape, jumping to his feet to pull the man by the upper arms so they're nose-to-nose. "Wanna try it one more time?"

Hop slams his hands on the table, "Mind letting me in on what's going on here?"

Victor squeaks at the arm snaking around the small of his back, pulling him in for a tender kiss that stuns all parties into silence. Heart pounding in his chest and head spinning from the alcohol, it's all Victor can do to keep his knees from buckling. Bede's other hand rakes through his hair, careful not to slide off the blindfold, and pulls him even closer as Bede shoves his tongue deeper. Their lips slide together, Victor letting out a soft sound as the warmth blocks out his remaining senses. The kiss is only broken when Bede's satisfied, pulling away with a lick of his lips. "There. Is that so hard?"

Silence falls over them as Victor catches his breath. He's absolutely stunned but he can't imagine what Hop must feel. All of this is happening too fast--

"Are you out of your fucking mind, man?" Hop curses, practically lunging round the table to grab Bede roughly by the collar.

In response, Bede simply rolls his head to the side, meeting Hop's heated gaze with a bemused smirk. "Be honest. Who are you really jealous of?"

"What?"

"You're jealous of me, aren't you?" Bede's eyes seem to glow with malice. "This is what you two always wanted. Well, I'm not going to stop you." He shoves Victor towards Hop so roughly the two almost topple over.

Hop catches his friend who now can't seem to keep his balance--lost in the artificial dark. Anger and confusion swell up in his chest like a toxic vortex, he doesn't know where all this came from, what the hell it is Bede expects them to say. Is this all a weird joke? "Look, you're drunk. Let's just call it a night and... talk about this in the morning."

"What's there to talk about? You've always liked him. He's always been... madly in love with you--pathetically so." Bede runs a hand through his hair, trying to look cool even as tears prick his eyes. "I've always been the third wheel. So what?"

What in the world? Now Hop's really confused.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to," Victor murmurs shakily, his whole body hot and trembling.

If one had to guess, he's probably referring to that event five years ago. It's hard to tell, everything is so muddled now. Hop holds Victor close, rubbing the man's back with soothing circles because he's at a complete loss what else to do aside from glare at his boyfriend. "Unlock these cuffs, Bede. I'm taking him home."

"Good idea," Bede smirks, pouring himself yet another drink. "Anything you need? Condoms? Lubricant? Anal beads--"

"Stop it!" Hop wants to slap the drink out of the blond's hand but he's afraid if he lets go of Victor the man'll collapse. "Bede, listen to me. I don't know where you got all these weird ideas, but I'm telling you, it's nothing like that."

Bede chuckles, saying nothing for a few minutes, just swaying slightly over the table. He brings the shot glass to his lips, pauses, then sets it down again, not caring how the liquid sloshes about. He cocks his head, eyeing the pair with an unreadable expression. "I'll drop everything," he says softly, his eyes drooping to half-lids. "Just let me hit him a few times and I'll drop everything."

Hop shakes his head as Victor starts sobbing into his shoulder, "You're mad. Listen to yourself."

"Can't you take a joke? _I'm joking_ , Hop," says Bede with a dramatic roll of his eyes as he plops down in Victor's seat. Without warning, he grabs the bottle of scotch and chugs it.

"Bede!" Hop gently maneuvers the ex-champion onto Bede's former seat before quickly as he can yanking the bottle from Bede's grasp, causing the man to splutter. "Enough bullshit. We're all going home, sleeping this off, and talking _like adults_ in the morning-- _sober_. This is ludicrous."

"Stop crying. It's fucking _pathetic_ ," Bede hisses, completely ignoring Hop's frustrated pleas in favor of ridiculing his old rival one last time. And all Victor can muster between sobs are garbled variations of "I'm sorry".


End file.
